——

/rounded George Ferrars in his work.

224 WINNIE CORSELLIS; OR, DEATH IN THE POT.

as she watched the smoke-clouds drifting across | shops were closed, in many others the half-shuttered

the horizon, and caught glimpses of the spire of
her own parish church and the Castle hill, now
seen, now lost, as a gleam of light found its way
through the vapours.

Every day there came a short letter to her or
her sister, but the envelopes often contained little
beyond the fact that all were well at home. It
was something to know that, but Winnie longed
for more than this scanty news ; she wanted details,
and not having them her imagination would paint
pictures of what was going on beyond her sight,
and dwell sadly upon the danger which sur-
Mrs.
Hammond was no less anxious, but she was a
more trustful woman than Winnie, and when they

| had said their morning and evening prayer for
| the safety of those they loved so well, she could

be content to leave them in God’s care, and
go cheerfully about her daily duties, or fall
quietly asleep at night in the certainty that her
heavenly Father would do all things well. But
Winnie could not do that ; and though she never
worried Jane, or let the children see her looking
unhappy, the pressure of her anxiety came upon
her directly she was alone, and would not be shaken
off. She used to fancy that no knowledge of the
truth could be as trying as this ignorance, but
she would have thought differently if she could
have seen across the valley and looked into the
back streets of the town and then seen the ceme-

tery, where rows of open graves, deep and large |
enough to hold four coffins, stood waiting to receive |

their contents. Hurriedly came the carts into the
bare new ground, and with trembling haste the
men in attendance huddled the coffins together
and left them lying in the graves. There were
no mourners, people were too frightened to follow
even their dearest relations to the cemctery—
where the cholera had garnered such a harvest ;
and when men could be found to carry a body
and place it in the grave they would not stay to
see it covered, but hurried with frightened haste
from the garden of death. From grave to grave

,along the ghastly row the clergyman went alone,

reading the burial service and sprinkling the earth
which had claimed its own over so many forms of
clay. Then more carts would come and shovelsful

of quicklime would fill the graves and hide the

coffins, and more fresh graves be dug ready for
the evening,
a day the curate walked in his surplice beside the
silent dead and read over them the words of hope,
while no mourner was near to hear and receive
comfort.

And if such sights in the graveyard told of
terror-stricken dismay, the aspect of the town
most fully confirmed the impression. Many of the

Twice a day the carts came, twice |

if I keep her,” he said, s eaking to Mr. Hammond,
i > Pp to)

windows spoke of death within, and passers-by
walked in the middle of the streets and held hand-
kerchiefs to their mouths as they hurried on their
way.

Few people came into the streets at all if they
could help it, and whether the disease was in-
fectious or contagious no one could say. It seemed
to follow no rule, to obey no law; one house would
be passed over, in another every inmate would be
attacked ; on one side of a street or at one end ofa
court death would be busy, on the other side, or at
the opposite end, no ease would appear. People
died by scores; up in the crowded alleys and
narrow lanes whole families were swept away, and
in the best neighbourhoods there was no safety,
the rich and the poor fell together victims to the
outraged law of purity and cleanliness.

IV.
Art the very time when Winnie sat in the hay-field,
longing for news of home, George was in the
dining-room writing to her. He had come in after
a long stretch of work for an hour’s rest before
going out again to his patients; and while his
dinner was being served he wrote to Winnie.

The two gentlemen were living together now,
for Mr. Ferrars’ housekeeper had taken fright
when the cholera became bad, and had so piteously
entreated her master to let her go that he could
not ask her to remain.

“She will get the cholera through sheer fright

eee

“though what to do I don’t know; it will he}
impossible to supply her place just now. I suppose’
I had better shut up this house and go into
lodgings; there are some rooms to let in High
Street.”

“Shut up your house by all means, but come
here instead of going into High Street. It will
be much better for us to live together, more con-
venient for the work, and more comfortable in all
ways. Besides, I doubt if you would get the
rooms ; Edwards would be afraid of your bringing
the cholera there.”

“Would he? perhaps so. However, if he)
won’t have me J shall be very thankful to come
here.”

Mr. Edwards quite declined to let his rooms to
Mr. Ferrars.

“You see, sir, doctors ain’t just the people one)
cares to have in the house when they are so much
in the way of the disease—there’s no saying ye
might happen, and my Missus would think you)
brought death in at the door every time you crossed |
the step.”

George laughed. “Very well, Mr. Edwards, 1